


Sandstorms

by aurilly



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Gen, IN SPACE!, Stranded
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-05 12:32:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4180011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurilly/pseuds/aurilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki and Bucky, stranded together in Svartalfheim after the Convergence.</p><p>(Canon divergence in which the events of Captain America: The Winter Soldier occurred before those of Thor: The Dark World)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sandstorms

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gloria_scott](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloria_scott/gifts).



Given his personal history, the heat, and the memory of the wound he had suffered, Loki’s first thought was that spirits were carrying him off to Hel. The arms holding him were stronger than he’d expected from spirits. Perhaps Thor was being allowed to take him personally? It was the sort of stupidly unhelpful, sentimental gesture in which Thor specialized. 

Loki had always assumed that death erased pain. It was the only benefit he could think of, but here, too, his hopes were disappointed. Everything hurt as badly as it had before.

“I know you’re awake,” a voice near his ear said. 

Whoever this was, it was not Thor. 

Loki squinted one eye open. A pale face hovered over his. The man’s dusty, scraggly hair and unkempt beard obscured his features, but he was certainly not Thor. All Loki could make out were two cold, blue eyes. 

“Am I dead?” he croaked through the dryness of his throat.

“No, you’re alive, barely. Either that, or we’re both dead.”

This was hardly a comforting answer. 

Through the limited peripheral vision allowed by this undignified position, Loki could see that he was still in Svartalfheim, near where he had fallen. The wind howled around them even more violently than earlier and blew painful bits of gravel into Loki’s face and open wounds. Thankfully, the man was carrying him to a somewhat protected area. Two jagged walls of rock towered in the middle of the rolling landscape, like the horrid brown walls that passed for modern sculpture on Midgard. 

Once they were safely out of the wind, the man put him down, more gently than his gruff, dispassionate voice might have suggested. 

“That’s some wound you’ve got,” he said. He reached for the fastenings of Loki’s vest, but stayed his hand an inch from the leather, waiting for permission.

Loki grunted his assent and thereupon collapsed completely. He could barely sustain this conversation, much less support himself long enough to investigate his injuries for himself. There was something immediately and perturbingly ‘off’ about this man, though how or why, Loki could not yet say. Whoever he was, he seemed well meaning enough. Further investigation could wait until he had regained his strength.

Loki went in and out of consciousness as the man opened his clothes and poured some water from a hip flask to clean the wound. He ripped off a long strip of Loki’s undershirt—the only clothing that had not been soiled by the dirt and wind—and gently tied this makeshift bandage all around his chest.

As he slowly came back to himself, Loki thought it odd how one of the man’s hands was harder than the other, but he was in no state to pay it much mind.

“It isn’t great, but it’ll stop you from bleeding out.”

Loki tipped his head painfully forward to look down at himself. It was a neatly arranged bandage, especially given such impromptu materials. Whoever his rescuer was, he had tended battlefield wounds before.

“To whom am I indebted?” he asked cautiously, trying to decide if this man was sent from Asgard to return him to prison, was an unlikely resident of this realm, or something else entirely. The answer would dictate Loki’s strategy going forward. 

“I’m…” The man hesitated on what should have been a simple enough question. However, the expression written in his forehead wrinkles gave the impression of one genuinely unsure or undecided, not purposefully withholding. “You first.”

“I am no one at all,” Loki cautiously replied. 

“Well, then I guess that makes two of us.” Where others might have chuckled ironically, this man frowned. “By the way,” he said, “you’re a hell of a lot heavier than you look. And not because of the armor. I can’t make out why.”

“I believe my kind is denser than yours, although I am not sure,” Loki said truthfully, for he did not know much about Jotun physiognomy, and had never wanted to find out. “You, too, are stronger than one of your size has right to be. What are you? Not quite human, I would suspect.”

He took off his glove to reveal a hand made of shimmering metal plates. “There’s this, and some other stuff, but I’m human, mostly. As human as Captain America, anyway.”

Something about the hand and the remark sparked Loki’s memory, but he was still too weak to pinpoint it. Deciding that his rescuer was ignorant of events in every relevant realm, he decided to risk exposure for the sake of potentially learning more. 

“My name is Loki.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“I need something to call you,” Loki pressed.

“I guess you could call me…” The man thought and then sighed, saying the next words as though he hadn’t for a very long time. “Bucky’ll work.”

It didn’t sound like a lie, but neither did it sound as comfortable as the truth ought to have.

“Do you know where we are?” Bucky asked. “I’m kinda disoriented, to say the least.”

He said it with the equanimity of one who normally found himself in such a state. Well, that eliminated one possibility; he was as much a visitor to this realm as Loki was, but from where, was the question.

“We are in Svartalfheim,” Loki replied.

“God bless you.”

“What?”

“Thought you sneezed.”

Loki tried again. “Svartalfheim is the name of the realm we are in.”

“Not sure I follow. What’s a realm? See, one second I was outside London, the next I’m here in this wasteland, surrounded by shoes and keys and shit. I must have blacked out, and somebody brought me here. I just can’t figure out why they left.” 

He said it as though it wouldn’t have been the first time.

“You traveled to another world, to a place at the far reaches of the universe. If you saw the change in your surroundings at the moment it happened, I would wager you were conscious the entire time.” Loki gave a brief explanation of the Convergence, and watched as Bucky valiantly repressed understandable shock; his jaw only slightly twitched. 

“Good thing I’ve got you to explain. That’s… not something I would have guessed on my own.”

“When did you arrive?” Loki wanted to ascertain how long he had lain unconscious, and how much time he had until Thor returned to Asgard and asked Odin to send a squadron to collect his body.

“About an hour ago. I saw some bodies out there in the valley and figured I’d check it out. I didn’t know what the hell the others guys were, but you looked normal enough. What happened to you?”

“I was stabbed through the chest with a spear. Though I suspect you guessed that.”

Loki had finally elicited a snort from the otherwise stone-faced Bucky. His entire face changed as he allowed himself to smile, if only for a moment. It was as though another man entirely lay behind this blank façade.

“Yeah, that much was obvious,” Bucky said. “Who stabbed you? Was it one of those… I don’t know what they were.”

“A dark elf, yes.”

“Nasty, pointy-eared bastard with red beams of light coming out of his hands? Is that what you’re talking about?” When Loki nodded, he continued, “Yeah, I saw them. Big helicarrier-looking thing coming out of nowhere, and then that friend of Steve’s with the hammer trying to take them down. I’ve seen a lot of shit, but I’ve never seen anything like that.”

Loki noted the familiar “Steve”. Not “Captain America”, not “Captain Rogers,” but “Steve”. Loki had spent long enough on Earth to know that the populace referred to its celebrities by their full names or titles, with the exception of certain singers. Why they were exceptions, Loki had never been able to discover. But he now knew that, whoever this man was, he must be a personal acquaintance of Captain America’s. It was also clear that he did not know who Thor was. Loki had understood from Frigga’s updates that Thor had become something of a global celebrity on Midgard. Every man alive knew his face and name. This one must have been living under a rock. 

“How do you know what they were and what was going on?” Bucky asked next. “Nobody else seemed to. You a friend of the hammer guy? Thor, right? Your armor looks kind of like his.”

“Something like that. You spoke of Captain Rogers. Are you a friend of his?”

Bucky hesitated, and looked depressed for a moment before answering. “Something like that.”

“So, to summarize, we have agreed that we are both no one, as well as uncertain friends Earth’s team of Avengers. What a charming state of ambiguity.”

“For a guy who just got stabbed clear through, you sure do talk a lot.”

“It is what I am known for.”

“Do you know how to get back to London? I’ve wrapped you up for now, but you need real help. You need a hospital.”

“No London doctor can help me. But it is no matter. I heal quickly enough. And I would rather avoid Earth, if I can.” On a whim, Loki posited, “And something tells me you would, too. You are a fugitive of some sort, are you not?”

“How did you figure that?”

“The way you keep glancing around us, appraising our surroundings for defensible spots, as though waiting for someone to apprehend you. The way you keep checking the weapons you have cached about your person. Your reluctance to give out any information about yourself.”

“Well, you’re not an idiot, whoever you are. And only another fugitive would be able to tell. Guess we’re in the same boat in this, too.”

Loki nodded non-commitally. “At any rate, you cannot go back. The phenomenon that brought you here must have ended while I was unconscious, and I am currently too weak to harness the power that brought me here. We are unfortunately stranded together.”

The man looked out at the wasteland. “Then there’s not much point in me having patched you up, is there? There’s no way we can survive here. This is it.”

He seemed eerily accepting of his assumed impending demise. Loki did not share the sentiment, nor the assumption. But he was too tired again to explain.

“I do not think our fate is as bleak as you fear, despite the sandstorm that I can see brewing our way. If you don’t mind, I’m going to let myself sleep through it. Afterwards, we can discuss our next move.”

“No complaints here,” Bucky replied. He looked as though he needed a break—as though this was already more conversation than he’d had in weeks.

Loki let go the tension in his neck and let his head fall to the ground.

* * *

“You were out for five hours, in case that’s what you were going to ask,” Bucky said before Loki himself quite knew he had awoken.

The storm had ended. Some sand had blown into the crevice where they sat, but Bucky had shielded Loki’s body with his. He was even filthier than before.

“Why did you wake me?” Loki asked tetchily. 

“Because someone’s coming, and I don’t know if they’re friendlies or not. But you might.”

Loki tried to move himself to look, but Bucky held him back. 

“They’ll see you!” he hissed.

“Not if I render us invisible,” Loki replied. He waved his hands and cast a shadow over them.

“Where’d you go?” Bucky’s voice sounded from a foot away, even though he could no longer be seen.

“I just said I would render us invisible. What do you think happened?” 

“Didn’t think you meant it literally. Didn’t know that was a thing people could do. Are you some sort of wizard?” 

“Yes.”

“Huh.” But after his momentary surprise, Bucky took the development in stride.

This time, Loki was able to look around the wall. The patterns of the Bifrost surrounded the little vehicle and the five soldiers who had come with it. He quickly recognized guards from the palace prison. 

“It is as I suspected,” he said. “They come from Asgard. They come for me, sooner than I had expected.”

“Then why are you hiding? This is our ticket out of here. Otherwise, we’re gonna starve to death.”

“Because I cannot go back. Nothing awaits me there but an eternal cell.”

There was a long pause. Bucky was invisible but for his shadow, but Loki could tell that he was carefully studying the spot he knew Loki to occupy. This was the moment, Loki saw; this was the moment when the struggle between the coldness and pragmatism of the façade would wage war with the morality and decency of the man who kept peeking out from underneath. Weak as he was, Loki was at Bucky’s mercy. The only problem was that Loki didn’t know which side would be more likely to spare him. 

“Did you do it?” Bucky asked. “Whatever you were locked up for.”

“Yes.”

“Are you sorry?”

“What I did was largely commanded of me, but I embraced the orders at the time. However, I am sorry I didn’t have access to a better, more effective plan, one that would have been easier to achieve and brought me some measure of satisfaction.”

“Something tells me that wasn’t the right answer,” Bucky said. “But at least you’re honest.”

“Don’t grow accustomed to it. It doesn’t happen often.”

Together, they watched the soldiers climb out of the vehicle and begin their search. So far, they were headed in the wrong direction, but it would not take them long to cross over a few sand dunes and find the bodies of the dark elves, and to realize Loki’s was missing. He had to come up with a plan, and soon. He needed to use the companion fate had provided him, but to sweeten the deal, he prepared to couch his request in more chivalrous tones.

“I appreciate your assistance today. I will not lightly forget it, and if ever our paths cross again, I will repay this debt,” he told Bucky. “However, you are under no obligation to stay. I will ask just one last thing of you—to carry me back to where you found me, unseen. After that, you may go to them, if you wish.”

“And say what? They don’t look too friendly.”

“They aren’t. And they don’t think very much of your kind. But they are not heartless. If you present yourself as a friend of Thor’s Midgardian companions, and explain the accident that brought you here, they will most likely allow you to travel back with them to Asgard. From there, Thor or Heimdall or the king will arrange for you to return to Earth and to Steve Rogers.”

“No!” Bucky blurted out.

“Surely whatever you are running from cannot be worse than what you face here, and it certainly cannot be as bad as what keeps me unwilling to return to Asgard.”

“Look, you’re not acting like a guy who’s getting ready to starve to death, so my money’s on you having some other plan. You know something. Something that’s better than a cell back where you come from. I want that. I want in.”

He was correct, and had to be rather clever in order to have made that logical connection. However, Loki still asked, for he could not understand it: “You would rather throw your lot in with a mysterious criminal than return to your own realm?”

It was the man at Bucky’s core who answered, with more naked honesty than his icy outward persona would have allowed. “I don’t want to go home. I’m… I’m not ready. I’m not ready for him to find me.”

This was interesting, not to mention potentially useful. Not only had Loki secured someone to care for him in the short term of his recovery, but one day, the secrets Bucky harbored and his preciousness to the Avengers (if Captain Rogers was looking for him, as this most recent comment made it seem, Bucky must be precious to him) might stand Loki in good stead. In the meanwhile, he was not averse to such a companion: one whose every graceful movement marked him as a hardened warrior, strong enough to fight beside even an Asgardian; one who seemed able to think and act as quickly as Loki did; one whose personality, so far visible only in flashes, Loki had already begun to tolerate, despite himself.

“All right,” Loki agreed. “Let our partnership commence. But first, we must throw them off my scent. I want to get close enough to hear any news from Asgard. Meanwhile, you can help by liberating them of the supplies that, if I remember correctly, are stored under the back seat of the transporter. When I clench your elbow, that will be the signal to lead us to where you originally found my body. The corpses of the elves remained there when you found me, correct?”

“Yeah, they were still there. But you’ll have to make sure you clench my other elbow. There’s not too much feeling in the metal one.”

“Noted.”

Bucky carried him out into the open. Quietly and invisibly, they lurked near where the Asgardians stood and talked amongst themselves. There were the usual ignorant fears of ghosts and ghouls, the usual complaining about the heat and discomfort, the usual lack of plan or direction. Mixed in with all that, however, was confirmation that Thor had defeated Malekith, that Heimdall had returned him to Asgard, that all assumed Loki to be dead. They had been sent to collect his body and take it home for the funeral rites. 

As he listened, Loki saw the cover of the supply compartment lift, seemingly of its own accord. Flasks of water and packages of food floated out and promptly disappeared, presumably into Bucky’s clothing.

When he felt a hand scrabbling near his leg, he knew that Bucky had returned to his side. Having heard enough, he sought out Bucky’s flesh elbow for the signal. He leaned on his new friend for support, and together, they walked over a sand dune and out of sight of the Asgardians. Before them, strewn about this small valley, lay the bodies of the elves Loki and Thor had fought. 

“So, what’s the plan here?” Bucky asked.

In answer, Loki knelt before one of the corpses and used much of what little strength he had to cast a shape-shifting enchantment. This was more than one of his usual illusions. This would be corporeal and permanent, making the elf as Asgardian as Loki usually appeared. He heard Bucky gasp beside him when the elf’s body shimmered into a perfect likeness of Loki.

“And now I am dead, and they will stop looking for me,” Loki announced. Thinking to make a gesture of good-will, and perhaps to bind them even more closely together, he offered, “I can do the same for you to that other body there, if you like.”

There was a pause before Bucky cautiously replied, more to himself than to Loki, “If I were dead, they’d stop looking for me, wouldn’t they? They’d move on with their lives and be happy.”

He said it as though he was caught between wanting this and not wanting it. Loki could understand the struggle.

“I cannot guarantee anyone’s happiness, but the plan certainly provides closure. The soldiers will take your body back to Asgard and to Thor, who would relay the news to your friends, and probably even take the body back to Midgard for burial.”

“If I changed my mind later on and decided I wanted to go back, I could just… it could be like a miracle, right? They’d be pissed but…” It was clear that Bucky wanted to have it both ways, and had not yet made up his mind to cut himself off from his previous life as entirely as Loki had. No matter what his history was, some part of him retained hope for something better, and was not ready to die in the minds of the people he had left behind.

(Though Loki had come back from death before, so perhaps his decision was not so permanent either.)

“I will do for you whatever you like,” Loki said, “but you must make up your mind, and soon.”

“All right. Go ahead. Do it.”

It was only the work of a moment to transform one of the bodies into an exact replica of Bucky’s. They were both still invisible, so Loki could not see his expression, but now that Bucky was expecting it, he didn’t seem as disturbed by the process, even though this time the duplicate was of himself. 

“Is that what I look like? God, I need a haircut,” was all he said.

“I think it rather suits you like this. You would fit in well in Asgard.”

“Too bad Asgard’s the one place we can’t go,” Bucky said.

Inch by inch, the heads of the guards were becoming visible over the top of the dune. They would be here in a moment. Already, the one in the front had begun to point at the corpses in this valley. 

“We gotta get out of here,” Bucky said. “As far as I can see, we’ve got two options. Either we steal these guys’ transport, or you’ve got a better plan.”

“I always have a better plan.”

“You didn’t when you did whatever got you arrested. You’ve already told me.”

“As I told you, that wasn’t my plan. Come, let us move away from here. To the left, about a mile’s walk away, we will find what we need.”

Bucky supported Loki’s weight against his and they began walking. “I can’t wait until you’re better enough to stand on your own,” he complained.

“You are not the only one.”

They began to walk. Behind them, they could hear the men discussing how to get the bodies back to the transport and when they would call upon Heimdall for their return to Asgard. Already, they could hear the men identifying ‘Bucky’ as a mortal, albeit a strange one, and planning to present his body to Thor.

“So, where are we going?” Bucky asked awhile later.

Far behind them, they watched as the Bifrost’s light shone down from the sky to take the soldiers and their findings back to Asgard. Now that they were alone again, Loki lifted the invisibility enchantment. After a quick explanation of what was happening, he noticed that Bucky watched the light fade away again with only a little regret etched on his face.

“We have arrived,” Loki announced, both to distract Bucky from second thoughts, but also because it was true. 

Bucky paused to look around them. “I don’t see anything.”

“I didn’t say you would see it. Trust me.”

“Yeah, I might have decided to stick with you, but that’s not gonna happen for a good long while, sorry.”

“You’re more intelligent than you look.”

That earned Loki another of those rare and pleasant chuckles; he was already treasuring them. Something told him this man had not laughed in a long, long time.

Loki raised his hand and murmured the words of a powerful spell Frigga had once taught him. It took a few tries, as he was far from strong, but eventually, the sand began to whir and shift, blowing outwards from a central spot like soil from an area in which a dog has decided to dig. Bucky muttered some choice swear words of awe as Loki worked. Eventually, something shiny and carved became visible near the top of what had at first appeared to be a sand dune. Having found the top of a structure, Loki shifted his efforts lower down, to where he thought a door might lie. Bit by bit, more of the structure was revealed—just enough to finally get a glimpse of a door.

Loki summoned the sand back to where it had lain on top of the spire, hiding it again.

“How’d you know that was there?” Bucky asked as he put all of his strength into his metal arm to get the door to open. It had been rusted shut thousands of years ago. Loki helped him with a little magic. 

“The impressive ship you saw in London is a relic of a bygone time, when the dark elves’s technology and inventiveness rivaled Asgard’s. But Svartalfheim has lain empty for thousands of years, and the sand storms have hidden all trace of this once great and powerful civilization. The short memories of man—even of Asgardians—did the rest. But I read. I read books few care to remember exist.”

They finally got the door open. Loki leaned heavily on Bucky as they stepped inside and conjured a light to guide them. As the room slowly illuminated, he guessed that they were in what had once been a large and splendid residence. The furniture had, of course, corroded over the millennia, and the air was thick and putrid. But it was shelter. And, given the former grandness of the place, it was likely that this family possessed a small transport—one of the wondrous ships only the Dark Elves had learned how to create—that could pierce the barriers between the realms at will, and move through space, visibly or invisibly, as the captain wished. 

Sure enough, they followed hallways and eventually found the equivalent of a carriage house, only this one housed an ancient spacecraft. It was covered in dust, but breaking into it was easy. It took only a few minutes of poking around in the controls to turn it on, even after having lain dormant for thousands of years. 

“First things first, though,” Bucky ordered, as if having already learned how to read the far-reaching tendrils of Loki’s thoughts (perhaps he had). “I’m starved, and most of the water I had went into your wounds.”

He promptly sat on the floor and began reaching into his clothes for where he had hidden the stolen foodstuffs. Loki sat down beside him and took a piece of fruit.

“How long does this need to last us for?” Bucky asked, looking with a mathematical eye that had already begun to divide what they had into rations.

“I anticipate that by tomorrow we will have found ourselves in a realm with all the food and beverages we could want.”

“Great,” Bucky said, and proceeded to stuff what might have been an entire wedge of cheese into his mouth.

“Given that we have decided to tie our fates, even if only temporarily, together,” Loki said between bites, “we ought to get to know one another. We can begin with where on Earth you are from.”

“New York, I guess.”

“Like Captain Rogers. Is that where you know him from?”

“Yeah, but it was a long time ago.”

“He only just awoke from a seventy year sleep a year or two ago. It can’t have been that long, not unless…”

And that was when Loki remembered. He remembered those strange files, the ones that hadn’t made any sense in conjunction with the others. He remembered how odd it had seemed, back when he’d been orchestrating the Chitauri attack for Thanos, that some of the SHIELD agents he had used the scepter on appeared to be in possession of information that an equal number were not. How Barton, who had seemed so central to the organization, had known very little.

He remembered whisperings and hints, in conversations he had had and papers he had read, of a mysterious Asset. Something about a timeless weapon, a fist, a man whose identity had been erased, who had been captured by Hydra decades ago and modified, both in mind and body, to its whims. A man who had once, by pure and convenient chance, been a friend of Captain America’s.

“You are the Winter Soldier,” he said.

A knife appeared in Bucky’s hand, as if by magic, and in a moment, he had Loki on his back, with the blade pressed to his jugular. “I thought you said you were from outer space. How the hell do you know who I am?”

There was little doubt that the wrong answer would result in injuries that Loki, no matter how much naturally stronger, was currently too wounded to stave off.

“There was a time when I infiltrated SHIELD, and gained access to many its secrets. I heard of you, that is all.”

“So that’s what they had you locked up for. You’re the guy, aren’t you? The space alien who tried to take over the world.” 

“And what would you say if I am?”

Bucky stood still for an excruciatingly long minute, but he slowly released the knife. “I’d say you did a pretty crummy job of it. I’d say you should have known better than to try, but given what you’ve told me, it seems like you’ve already figured that out. I’d say you’re a brainwashing piece of shit who deserves the cell you somehow got out of. But I’d also say I’ve already thrown my lot in with you and it’s too late to back out now.”

“Good answer.”

But then the knife once more pressed against Loki’s throat as Bucky growled close to his ear, “I’ll say one last thing, too. Someone made a video of that shit in Stuttgart. I watched it on the Internet. If you ever— _ever_ —attack Steve again, for any reason, I will end you. Same goes for messing with people’s heads. Do we have that straight?”

“I bear no ill will to your friend. He will come to no harm by my hand. Nor shall I tamper with anyone’s mind.”

“By your hand or by your magic or by you getting someone else to do the dirty work either. I know a loophole when I hear one.”

“Well done,” Loki complimented him. “I understand your request and agree to both the spirit and the letter of it. Will that suffice?”

“Yeah, that’ll suffice.”

“For what it’s worth, my brief foray into mind control did not prove particularly useful or entertaining.”

“Joking about it doesn’t make it any better,” Bucky snapped. “Just stop doing it, and we won’t ever need to talk about it, okay? And if we ever come across anyone it’s been done to, you can make up for it by helping me help them.”

“Of course. Apologies.” 

Bucky went back to eating as though nothing had happened, even though Loki was still a bit shaken. That flip into violence and back had been terrifyingly sudden, and hinted at the true level of destruction of which Loki’s new friend was capable. 

Staying clear of Captain America was a small price to pay for such an ally. But Bucky was no fool; he must have known he had chosen wisely, as well. For all his general wariness and understandable anger about Loki’s past deeds, he had to see that a sorcerer and well-informed citizen of the universe was a useful companion to have in one’s debt.

“How much do you remember?” Loki asked curiously. “The files hinted at procedures that had dampened your memory in addition to robbing you of your will.”

“Not too much. Flashes, mostly. It’s coming back, slowly.”

“What if I helped the process along with magic? It would be in recompense for your continued aid in my recuperation from this wound. Our partnership will be more effective if both of us are sound in body and mind.”

“If you’ve read my files, you’ll know I’m not really into someone else messing in my head, not even for what you’re promising. Especially not with your track record. I’ll just wait it out on my own, thanks.”

Not even Loki could take offense to this. This refusal had only increased his respect for Bucky’s intelligence. “I know you do not yet trust me. You have little reason to beyond our basic survival, but if there ever comes a time when you do, you need only ask.”

“In the meanwhile,” Bucky asked with a full mouth, “which planet are we going to visit first?”

* * *

_**Six Months Later** _

Bucky staggered out of the raucous bar in which he had decided to spend the evening while Loki made discreet inquiries about their next project. Bucky had been doing his part, too. Bars like this one were frequented by the kinds of space pirates and mercs that Bucky had quickly learned were the best source of information across the galaxy. 

If someone had told him a year ago—hell, seventy years ago—that he’d one day know how to identify and evade different types of law enforcement officials across six galaxies, he’d have laughed and told them to get back to their science fiction novels. But here he was, gambling with aliens in a floating head in space and waiting for a disinherited sorcerer prince to pick him up. 

His life may have become a science fiction novel, but it wasn’t half bad. It sure beat life with Hydra, or those miserable months spent on the run from Steve’s unbearably earnest pursuit. Bucky hadn’t been even close to ready to face him. He couldn’t, not until he could be the person Steve—and more importantly, Bucky himself—wanted him to be. 

He was a lot closer to that goal these days. Closer than he’d thought possible months ago. He felt like a real person with a real life these days, strange and alien though that life was. The company was just as strange, but he’d grown to like his snooty dick of a traveling companion, even if he still didn’t trust him inside his head. Hell, he didn’t trust him farther than he could throw him (which, given Bucky’s enhanced strength, was thankfully reasonably far).

Bucky had been trying to subtly plant in Loki’s mind the idea of a possible reconciliation with Thor. Even if Bucky one day felt ready to go back to Earth, he wanted to make sure Loki wouldn’t be left hanging. So far, things seemed promising. Word had already gotten around the realms that Thor was heralding his brother as one of the saviors of reality. If Asgard could forgive Loki—if Bucky himself could—then perhaps Earth had a hope of being as lenient on Bucky. 

First things first, though. Bucky needed to remember how to walk straight.

He spotted Loki waiting for him in a darkened corner of the street, tapping his foot in the haughty way Bucky simultaneously found hilarious and annoying.

“You’re not gonna believe this,” he said, shaking his head and still not believing it himself, “but I think I just lost a drinking contest to a talking raccoon.”

“A what?” Loki asked.

“Big, red, furry rodent. Cute to look at, but keep your distance, because they’ve got a nasty bite. Usually rabid. As far as I always thought, they’re only on Earth, because I haven’t seen or heard of them anywhere we’ve been so far.”

“They cannot be indigenous to Earth if you have seen one here.”

“Well, the ones on Earth don’t talk, so _something’s_ up. This one had a big tree with him. It talked, too. Sort of.”

“You have had too much to drink, I fear,” Loki said, patting Bucky on his shoulder as affectionately as he allowed himself. Directing his hand to Bucky’s metal shoulder rather than his flesh one reduced the amount of sentimentality in the gesture, or so Bucky knew Loki was telling himself.

“I’m drunk, but I’m not the kind of drunk who hallucinates.” Bucky shook his head again. “Man, what did they even put in those cocktails?”

“At any rate,” Loki said, changing the subject, “I have found where Tivan keeps his collection. Moreover, I have learned of a secret tunnel entrance that we can use to sneak in. I am sure there is something in there we can liberate and use, if not to aid in our fight against Thanos, then at least to keep us in quality beds and fine meals for months to come.”

“Sounds good. Just, uh, just give me an hour or two to get my head on straight again.” Bucky slumped to the ground and held his face in his hands.

Loki sighed and handed him a bottle of water. “You are hopeless.”

It turned out that the delay caused by Bucky’s drunkenness made no difference, because almost immediately, they heard a loud explosion. A burst of purple light swelled from a large building nearby—the one Bucky had been told belonged to the industrialist who owned this Knowhere place.

“What the hell?” he asked, picking himself gingerly up.

“I fear we will have to come up with another plan,” Loki said. “That was the collection.”

“What, it just blew up?”

“So it would seem,” Loki replied.

“Come on, let’s go check it out.” 

Strewn about the street like so much detritus was what Loki told him were many of the universe’s greatest treasures. Loki motioned to Bucky to pick up items he recognized as being of more value than others, and which could fit in their pockets. Bucky did his fair share of leading in their partnership, but shit like this was where Loki naturally stepped up. It all looked the same to Bucky.

Something white streaked across the destroyed courtyard. Something familiar that didn’t make any sense whatsoever.

“Look out!” Loki called, but instead of fleeing, Bucky got down on one knee.

“Cosmo!” he said delightedly as the dog licked his face. “What are you doing here, buddy?”

“Do you two know one another?” Loki asked, with one eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, I helped secure the Soviet space program when they were gearing up in the fifties. Cosmo and I here shared a trainer.” Bucky felt his face flush for a second. The painful parallel was not lost on him, but another joyful lick from Cosmo wiped the frown away again. That time was over now, he reminded himself. He continued to scratch behind the dog's ears, just as he'd always liked best. Cosmo's tail thumped in excitement and joy.

No one had been this uncomplicatedly happy to see Bucky in seventy years. 

Loki had learned enough about his new friend to read on Bucky’s face what was coming. Trying to stop it before it started, he said, “Bucky we cannot—”

“We’re keeping him. No ifs, ands or buts, Loki.”

Loki groaned, but he knew there was no arguing with Bucky on this matter. “If it tries to crawl into my bed, I _will_ shoot it.”

“Nah, he won’t. He’ll be sleeping with me, won’t you, boy? I always wanted a dog.” 

Loki rolled his eyes. “Of course you did.”


End file.
